


The Lonely Hearts Club

by ithilien22



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithilien22/pseuds/ithilien22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes first loves don't last forever, but maybe they aren't supposed to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lonely Hearts Club

Blaine doesn't really think about Mike Chang much. He admires the guy's dance moves (not to mention his dancer's _body_ ), and he did once have a surprisingly erotic dream involving himself and Mike and the piano bench in the rehearsal room that made it a little difficult to look the guy in the eye for a week or so directly afterwards. But really, on the whole, he just doesn't tend to think about Mike Chang.

So when Mike stops him after Glee rehearsal one day to tell him that he thinks Blaine's really getting the hang of the new routine, Blaine simply takes the rare compliment with a surprised smile and a bashful, "thanks, man," and doesn't linger on it. In fact, he's almost out the door when Mike's voice stops him once more.

"Hey Blaine?"

Blaine comes back into the room, regarding the other boy curiously. He watches as Mike fingers the strap on his bag for a moment before meeting Blaine's questioning gaze.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about you and Kurt," he says, his words abrupt but his voice soft. "I know how you... I mean. Break-ups suck."

"Yeah," Blaine manages to agree, equally soft. The unexpected words of sympathy cause a lump to form in his throat; Mike, of all people, is the first person - the only person, so far - who's offered his condolences (to _him_ at least, Blaine's brain amends automatically). Realizing this, more than Mike's words themselves, has Blaine suddenly fighting back tears.

He's been trying really hard not to think about it - about how lonely he's been over the past few weeks. But after Kurt broke up with him, Blaine had quickly started to realize that nearly all the friends he'd made at McKinley were actually Kurt's friends, first and foremost. No one had been cold exactly, just suddenly distant.

The left-over endorphins still coursing through his body from practice can't seem to hold against the sudden wave of exhaustion that barrels into Blaine's chest and he feels himself slump down rather gracelessly onto the risers.

"When Tina broke up with me," Mike continues, no longer looking at Blaine, "it was like... well. You know."

Blaine nods. He does know. God, does he know.

He wants to say something in return - offer his own words of comfort or wisdom, but he never was much good at that. Sometimes he still longs for the 'D' he used to wear on his blazer, for how easily the words used to come back then (even if they never had much substance).

"Anyway," Mike says, effectively ending the moment as he turns back to the door, "see you Monday."

Blaine keeps sitting on the risers for a long time before he finally makes his way back home for the evening. He starts to think about Mike Chang a little bit more, after that.

* * *

Being friends with Mike turns out to be suspiciously easy. Like a switch that has suddenly been flipped, Mike seems to transition seamlessly from _friendly acquaintance_ to _good friend_ in Blaine's mind almost overnight. It shouldn't be that surprising, really; whenever they're together, Mike is all easy smiles and quirky jokes and Blaine can't help but fall into the effortless rhythm of his friendship.

They bond over comic books and horror films and over-involved relatives, and it's all ridiculously simple and uncomplicated. It's like being five years old and meeting your best friend on the playground one day, only to be inseparable forever after.

(It isn't until then that he really realizes - how long it's been since he's had this.)

The Santana of it all, though, that's where it starts to get complicated. Because the thoughts Blaine has about Santana - he'll admit it - have never been particularly charitable. So when he comes over to Mike's house for the first time only to find her sprawled out across the living room couch, he doesn't try especially hard to hide his distaste.

But even that doesn't last long after Mike's quick and careful disarming of both his and Santana's verbal arsenal that leaves Blaine feeling guilty and small. Being with Santana away from school turns out to be a lot different than Blaine expects, actually. She's a little quieter, a tiny bit less defensive. Every other word out of her mouth is still generally offensive, but there's a sort of fondness that starts to show underneath, after awhile.

Blaine knows, just like Santana and Mike both know, that it's the heartache that brought them together. They don't talk about it, but it's there: the fourth member of their mismatched group. It softens their voices and interrupts their laughter. It becomes less pushy over time, but it's always there.

Santana is the one who finally brings it up one day, curled up in the overstuffed armchair in Blaine's basement, watching credits roll on the muted television. She's been restless all evening - the barbs she's been throwing have been sharper, have cut deeper than usual.

"I'm going to start fucking guys again," she announces to the room at large, eyes defiant.

Mike regards her for a moment before saying, carefully, "that sounds like fun."

He's clearly baiting her, Blaine thinks. But to his surprise, she doesn't rise to it. Instead, she slumps back in her chair, looking almost defeated. Blaine gains a new respect for Mike in that moment; he knows that in Mike's place, he would have just given Santana the fight she was obviously looking for. But Mike simply stares her down, eyes full of sympathy and understanding.

"I just can't fucking stand it sometimes," she snaps in frustration. Her shoulders are tense and her body is drawn in tight inside the arms of the chair.

"I keep waiting for things to get better," Blaine says into the following silence. "And, I mean, they are. But it's..."

He trails off, fiddling with the threads of the carpet from his position on the floor.

"It's not just... her," Santana says, as if continuing Blaine's thought. "It's the fact that I'm... that I can't..." Santana flounders a bit, clearly frustrated at her inability to say the words. "It's knowing that it's always going to be like this. Maybe worse, even. Once I... once I tell everyone."

Blaine, half ready to continue his own rant, falls silent. He knows exactly how Santana feels, of course. He had been there once himself. But he already jumped off of that particular bridge and he just can't bring himself to offer empty words of reassurance that they all know aren't true. This is Ohio. Blaine has chosen his battle, but that doesn't mean he would choose it for anyone else.

It's Mike, after a moment, whose voice breaks the heavy silence. "I'm bisexual, you know," he near whispers, and Blaine's head snaps up at the quiet, unexpected revelation. Santana, too, looks shocked.

Mike laughs, but it's a hollow sort of chuckle. "Tina was the only person I ever told," he tells them. "She was actually... really great about it."

That part doesn't surprise Blaine as much. He's always liked Tina, even if they've never been close. He knows she never meant to hurt Mike the way she did. Just as Brittany never intended to hurt Santana or how Kurt... well. They're all just kids, really. Some collateral damage is bound to happen.

They just sit there, together, for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Blaine cracks an awkward joke to try to bring his friends back into the present and it works pretty well. Santana rolls her eyes and calls him a "dork" and a hint of Mike's smile reappears at the corner of his mouth. They eventually fall into their usual banter, and when they leave for the night, the weight has lifted significantly.

They still don't talk about it very much, but it's better somehow. Some of the loneliness has disappeared from their hearts. They have each other, if nothing else.

* * *

It's Santana, in the end, who finally makes him own up to it. She corners him in the empty hallway between classes, taking advantage of the fact that Blaine is already late by no doubt planning to make him even more so.

"It's time for you to man up, Anderson," she tells him without preamble, arms folded across her chest.

"What does that mean, exactly?" he asks, shutting his locker and turning to give her his full attention. She seems resolved about something, the old spark of defiance back in her eyes.

"You like him," she replies simply. It's not a question, and Blaine doesn't bother pretending like he doesn't know who she's talking about, either. They're past those kinds of games. Still, his stomach clenches at the implication of her words.

"I don't," he murmurs, voice sounding overly loud in the empty hallway. Santana must sense his discomfort, because she rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, dragging him down the hallway and outside, forcefully sitting him down on one of the benches in the quad.

"Look, normally I would let you just go on your clueless way until graduation," she says, standing over him in a way that's vaguely menacing, "but after the shitty year you've both had, I figure you deserve a little happiness. So I'm telling you to pull your shit together and do something about it."

Blaine withdraws slightly under the force of her scrutiny. It's not that he hasn't thought about it, especially lately. Mike has been creeping into his thoughts in more and more non-platonic ways as their friendship has grown. And okay, maybe even more so after Mike came out to them. But that doesn't mean he wants to date Mike. Or that Mike would want to date him.

"It's not a good idea," he settles on finally, and Santana's scowl deepens.

"Why?" she demands. "Because there's a chance you guys may not live happily ever after, raising some Chinese babies and driving matching Volvos?"

"Yes, okay?" Blaine snaps, hands shaking slightly. "Is that what you want me to say, Santana? That I'm scared? Well, okay. I am! I'm scared."

Santana's eyes soften after his outburst and she moves to sit beside him on the bench.

"I know you are," she says, absentmindedly fiddling with the bracelet she always wears. "But I think we have to keep putting ourselves out there anyways. Even if we do keep getting our hearts handed back to us in pieces."

Blaine can't help but smile just a little bit at that; it's the worst pep talk he's ever heard.

"Why?" he finally asks. "Why should we keep setting ourselves up for disappointment?"

"Because otherwise you're going to die alone, surrounded by cats," she tells him.

"I hate cats," he says, as if this is a relevant fact.

"I know," she replies easily, leaning her shoulder against his. They sit like that until the last bell rings out for the day.

Soon the quad is swarming with students, and Santana and Blaine finally get up, making their way out to the parking lot. Santana spots Mike before Blaine does, and she gives him a not-very-gentle shove in the other boy's direction.

"Man up!" she mouths, eyebrows raised significantly, and then she's gone.

Blaine squares his shoulders as he makes his way over to intercept Mike before he reaches his car. Mike's whole face lights up when he sees him, and Blaine feels a matching grin cover his own. Maybe he can do this, he thinks.

"Hey," Mike greets him as they finally meet up at Mike's old VW Rabbit.

"Hey," Blaine echoes. He feels himself blushing as Mike waits for him to speak. He wants to run, but he steels himself against the feeling. It's just Mike. He can do this.

"I was thinking," he says, wincing at the way his voice squeaks slightly from his nerves. "Um. I thought maybe we could do something this weekend."

 _There._ he thinks. _That sounded normal._

"We do something every weekend," Mike reminds him, sounding confused but still smiling brightly.

"Right," Blaine agrees, mentally smacking himself. "I just meant...you know. Without Santana, maybe."

Now Mike looks just looks concerned.

"Did you guys have a fight?" he guesses. "I can talk to her. You know how she gets sometimes. Just maybe give her a day or two to cool off..."

"No, no. Look, this is coming out all wrong," Blaine interrupts, feeling frustrated and suddenly hopeless. "Just... nevermind."

But Mike reaches out and catches his arm, holding him in place.

"Hey, wait," he says. "I'm listening. Talk to me."

The simple command and the pressure of Mike's hand against Blaine's bicep must loosen something in his brain (or his heart) because he suddenly blurts out, "Sometimes I just really want to kiss you."

Mike looks a little shocked and Blaine rushes to clarify, "I mean not like, right now, or anything! I don't have a death wish. I just... I thought maybe sometime we could. Or... I mean..."

He trails off, eyes lowered to the asphalt, afraid to see the emotions that he imagines playing across Mike's face. Mike's hand leaves his arm and Blaine shuts his eyes tight. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

But then Mike is threading his fingers through Blaine's and Blaine opens his eyes, looking back up cautiously. Mike is still smiling. He squeezes Blaine's hand softly, looking almost shy.

"Yeah," he says, "I'd like that."

And okay, Blaine knows that chances are they probably won't live out Santana's suburban gay fairytale. But looking at Mike, smiling in the afternoon sunlight in their high school parking lot, he feels his heart grow a little bit stronger again. Maybe that's enough for now.


End file.
